Dragon Hide
by JDPhoenix
Summary: True Love Tattoos. A Weasley Wizard Wheezes Product. True Love Tattoos reach deep into your subconscious mind, marking your skin for up to two weeks with a symbolic representation of your soul mate.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I in any way associated with, Harry Potter. I'm just taking the characters out for a spin.

AN: This is an AU seventh year fic. HBP and DH never happened and any canon found within them is probably best ignored. As usual, this story is finished and the remaining chapters will be posted in a reasonable amount of time.

**Dragon Hide**

It was with a great deal of personal shame and horror that Hermione realized that the Head Girl of Hogwarts had, as a muggle would call it, a tramp stamp.

She stood with her back to her mirror in only her underclothes, wishing desperately that she hadn't agreed to this. The tattoo would disappear in under a fortnight - or else she should "consult her primary healer" as the packaging had said - but the placement alone would be cause for some shame. She wasn't sure if wizards had the same outlook on tattoos in this general area of the body as muggles, and she didn't want to find out. It certainly wouldn't help that the thing's serpentine tail followed the left curve of her bum before twisting out of sight in the shadow between her thighs.

Reflected in the mirror, she could see the box the magical needle had come in, laying discarded on her nightstand. She'd read and reread every word on the packaging twice before finally agreeing that Fred and George wouldn't sell something _too_ dangerous. The words came back to her now, making her wince as she took in the pale creature emblazoned on her back.

_True Love Tattoo_

_Quantity: one tattoo_

_True Love Tattoos reach deep into your subconscious mind, marking your skin for up to two weeks* with a symbolic representation of your soul mate._

_*If tattoo lasts longer than two weeks please consult your primary healer or tattoo may become permanent._

And then, on the bottom in extreme fine print:

_Weasley Wizard Wheezes makes no claims as to the accuracy of True Love Tattoos. _

That last did little to console her. Maybe it wasn't "accurate," maybe it just showed you who you liked or who you had a crush on and not who you were destined to be with for all time. That was perhaps worse.

She bit her lip as she examined the tattoo again. The lines of the thing were thin and light, almost as if it had been painted on with a calligraphy brush. Long wings gracefully followed the curve of her backside, reaching so far around that she'd just be able to see the pointed tips if she stood in profile. Its sharp, aquiline head was turned to the side, staring back at her from one beady eye.

Laughter from the room next door startled Hermione out of her thoughts. The other upper class girls were awake and no doubt tittering over their own tattoos. Any minute one or all of them would come barging in here, asking what she'd gotten.

Hermione threw on her clothes and grabbed her wand. She wasn't about to tell anyone the truth of what her tattoo had formed and that meant glamouring a fake one. But of what? She looked frantically around the room for inspiration. A cat, she thought, seeing Crookshanks. A good Gryffindor girl could never go wrong with anything feline.

Ginny, Parvati, and Lavender stumbled in just as Hermione finished her charm, all demanding to see her tattoo. Hermione lifted the edge of her robes, turning her ankle so they could see. They all ooo'ed and ahhh'ed. There was some discussion over who was the most Gryffindor of all the boys before Ginny pointed out that it clearly meant Crookshanks, who was a better man than any of them would ever be. Hermione joined in the giggling and quickly asked about their tattoos, desperately trying to put out of her mind the dragon wrapped tightly around her waist.

* * *

><p>Hermione shifted in her seat. The chair had been comfortable all year, keeping that perfect balance between stiff and cushy so that she could sit in it for hours on end without pain or danger of falling asleep - though she had done the latter a time or two. Not even the most uncomfortable chair in the world would help when she worked herself to exhaustion. Today though, she could not sit comfortably. She swore she could feel the tattoo, taunting her, mocking her with every tiny movement she made.<p>

She'd come to the Heads' office to escape. After ten minutes of tattoo talk in the dorms that morning, Hermione had been done. She'd rushed down to the Great Hall while the other girls were still getting dressed and eaten a few bites of toast, leaving before any of the other upper class Gryffindors showed up. She had somehow looked at the Slytherin table three times though and that was disturbing.

She figured no one, not even the Head Boy, would come up to the Heads' office today. OWLS and NEWTS were over and the weather was bright and sunny, beckoning the student body outside. It would give her a chance to finish off her last minute paperwork and get a head start on packing before she had to go home in a week. Papers that she kept filed away in her desk needed to be archived in the filing cabinets that lined the wall opposite the door. The records held there went all the way back to the school's founding and were kept on hand for future Heads. She also had to pack up what she needed to take home with her. She wasn't sure how so many of her things had migrated into this office over the course of the year, but they had. Her only consolation was that her fellow Head was just as bad. In one quick glance at his side of the room she could see his Quidditch jersey, his Potions textbook, and a top that glowed in different colors depending on the mood of whoever spun it. He was a bit worse than she was about abusing their office, but not by much.

She quickly signed her name to a final document and set it atop the pile she'd been making all morning. Very pointedly, she pushed the pile as close to the Head Boy's desk as she could, careful not to breach the boundary between but making sure he would notice. She would need to consolidate her paperwork with the his before it was all locked away, leaving her free to work on the rest of the room. Before she could so much as decide where to start, the door swung open.

"Shouldn't the Ravenclaws be sad classes are all but over?" Malfoy asked, flopping into his own chair and tossing a satchel onto his desk. It flopped over, some of the contents spilling out and onto her desk. Malfoy quickly stood back up, gathering the small firecrackers, pack of ton-tongue taffy, and a few of the True Love Tattoos before they could get in her way. He wouldn't apologize for breaching her space, nor would she if their positions had been reversed, but it was silently agreed that they would clean up any accidental violation of territory as quickly as possible.

"Are those for me?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione started. Her eyes had been fixed on the True Love Tattoos and she'd missed when Malfoy noticed the paperwork.

"Yes," she said, fiddling with her quill and hoping he wouldn't notice her blush. "Er, no," she amended. "They're all done but we need to go through everything together before filing it away for the year." She jerked her head towards the filing cabinets with what she hoped was a wry grin. More than once they'd had to access them over the course of the year and had been amazed at just how much useless information had ended up in there. But everything that was official Head business was required to be stored for future reference - apparently even Head Boy Jacob Quirrell's love letters to Head Girl Margaret Feathering back in 1862.

Malfoy eyed the cabinets with an odd combination of wariness and humor. "Of course," he said, lowering himself back into his seat. "We'll have to do it before the match on Friday."

"Right," Hermione said with a firm nod.

Gryffindor and Slytherin's final match of the year had been postponed due to an attack by Lord Voldemort. When the dust settled on what turned out to be the final battle, everyone agreed that defeating the darkest wizard of the age was a good reason for Harry to ask for a postponement. Had NEWTS not been coming up so fast, it would have been held sooner, but Dumbledore seemed pleased by the idea of giving the students one more big game the day before they headed home.

"That'll be nice though," she said, trying not to look at him or the red and black boxes on his desk. "We'll have the whole last day to just enjoy ourselves before Saturday when we're busy rounding up first years."

"You get to enjoy yourself, Granger," he said, picking up one of the accursed boxes and examining it, "I will be beating Potter and the rest of your precious Gryffindor team so badly that Gryffindor Tower will flood with tears."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What were those Ravenclaws doing with these anyway?" he asked suddenly. "They're more of a Valentine's Day thing, don't you think?" He spun one lazily across the desks and straight into her hands. She dropped the quill she'd nearly picked bare by now and tentatively fingered the box.

"Colin bought them," she explained, keeping her eyes on the gawdy heart on the box's cover. "He thought it'd be a good anniversary present for him and his Hufflepuff girlfriend to try it out but he messed up the order form and ended up with twenty instead of two."

Malfoy clicked his tongue and muttered something about Gryffindors and an inherent lack of math skills.

"All the upper class Gryffindors took pity on him and bought some, figuring it'd be fun to use them together and see what everyone got. Parvati took a few, said Padma'd get a kick out of them. That must be where the Ravenclaws got them."

Hermione waited several beats for Malfoy's no doubt snarky response but received only silence. Finally she looked up, meeting calculating grey eyes that did _not_ send a faint shiver down her spine.

"'_All_ the upper class Gryffindors'?" he echoed with a knowing smirk.

Hermione's eyes widened. "They're not against the rules," she quickly said, tossing the box back to him. She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff of annoyance that she hoped would hide her embarrassment and leaned back in the chair.

"I know. I'm just wondering where and what." The way his eyes traveled up her body as he said it and then settled on her face with an appreciative smile made her squirm.

"None of your business," she said coldly.

"Oh, come on," he teased, "how bad can it be? I suppose it could be a weasel but …"

"I am not in love with Ron!" Hermione snapped. Their attempt at a relationship the year before was still a bit of a sore spot. "And stop calling him a weasel!" she added, realizing she should be defending her friend despite their breakup.

"Then what is it? And how are you even supposed to know who it represents? Sounds kind of dodgy to me."

Hermione shook her head. She'd asked Fred and George the same thing when they came out with the product. "You know the old legend about Patronuses? How when you're really in love with someone your Patronus matches theirs because their happiness is so much a picture of your own?"

Malfoy nodded her along, a slight roll of his eyes betraying how he really felt about that particular old wives' tale.

"It basically works like that," she said with a shrug. "Since a Patronus is a reflection of the caster, the tattoo should form your true love's Patronus or simply the thing that represents them in your mind." Or the mystical creature from which their name was derived, apparently, Hermione thought with a small mental huff.

"Like I said, dodgy," Malfoy said, flicking one of the boxes with his fingers. "Most wizards can't even form a Patronus. I can't believe you Gryffindors were taken in like that."

Hermione smiled and pulled out her wand. "Oh, but we weren't. _Expecto patronum_."

White light poured from her wand, coalescing into an otter that leapt and danced around Malfoy's head before settling atop the mess on his desk. He eyed the creature uneasily, as if he thought it was somehow as filthy as its flesh and blood counterparts.

"We all learned back when Umbridge decided to ignore the defense part of Defense Against the Dark Arts." Malfoy didn't respond, only kept staring distastefully at the Patronus. "It's an otter," Hermione added helpfully.

"I _know_," Malfoy bit out, glaring over the ethereal creature at her.

She giggled and the light flared. Malfoy spun his chair to the side in a show of annoyance and she let the creature disappear.

"Sometimes it's hard to tell what they are due to the scintillation."

"Not if the caster is truly happy," he said quietly. "What were you thinking of, anyway?"

Hermione took her time tucking her wand back into her robes. She'd been thinking of him - the look on his face when he'd see it, the way he sometimes smiled just a little bit at her, how her first name had sounded coming from him even though he'd been patronizing her the one and only time he'd said it. Her spirits fell. She was doomed.

"Wow," Malfoy said, "I've never seen a happy memory make someone so sad."

"It's nothing," she said and was grateful when he didn't pursue the subject.

"How do you work these anyway?" he asked offhandedly and reached under the desk to pick up one of the boxes her otter had knocked to the floor with its tail. He broke the seal and slid out the inner box. A small needle rested snugly in an indent in the cardboard. Where there should have been an eye there was instead a small bulb that glowed faintly.

"Y-you prick your skin and sometime in the next few hours the tattoo will appear."

Malfoy looked up at her carefully, his eyes once more moving over her body.

"What?" she demanded.

"Just wondering where you pricked yourself that you're so unwilling to let me see."

She scowled at him. "The tattoo can appear anywhere. The spot you prick has nothing to do with it."

"So it's dictated by your personality like the animal is?" he asked. The question sounded almost idle, the look he was giving her was anything but.

This used to be fun, just yesterday if she recalled. They would bicker and tease and it had been okay because neither of them ever crossed that line into actual insults. It had also been okay because yesterday she didn't have a great big symbol of Draco Malfoy on her backside reminding her that occasionally she'd given in to silly little fantasies about him. They didn't _mean_ anything. Working in such close contact with him at all hours of the day and night, she was sure to have some impure thoughts eventually. That didn't mean she liked him.

Even though she had defended him to Harry and Ron more than a few times this year. She'd even gone so far as to call him a "real human being" once. And she could still hear the "_finally_" that had escaped her when he announced he'd dumped Daphne Greengrass in January. But that was only because he'd spent the six weeks they dated doing nothing but complain about her.

"What's wrong?" Malfoy asked, pulling Hermione back into the present. She really wished he'd stop doing that. It was one thing to be trapped in depressing thoughts about all the feelings she wasn't sure she had for him, it was another to actually face him.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"That's the second time in one conversation that you've gotten that look on your face."

"What look?"

"Like Harrow found your familiar during a full moon."

Hermione gave him her most disapproving frown. Ever since McGonagall and Snape had explained first year Timothy Harrow's condition to them, along with what their role would be in helping to manage it, Malfoy had not let a single full moon go by without making at least one joke at the boy's expense.

"Werewolves don't care about animals," Hermione said.

"Yeah? Tell that to Harrow, would you? It took me a whole day to clean up that giant spider he disemboweled."

Hermione winced. One of Aragog's younger children had gotten lost and holed up in the Shrieking Shack for shelter. If Harrow's injuries were any indication, it had been one hell of a fight. Sadly, only the Heads and professors knew what had really happened. Everyone else thought Harrow was his usual clumsy self and had fallen down a few stairs.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" Malfoy pressed, taking back control of the conversation. "It's not like I'm going to gossip about you, and if Potter and Weasley have done something to set you off, you know I'm always here to make fun of them for you." He smiled sweetly at her.

"It's nothing," she said quickly. "I'm just sad it's the end of the year, is all. I'm gonna miss this place." She dropped her head back as if she could see through the ceiling to the floors above.

"Yeah," Malfoy said wistfully.

Hermione's head dropped down sharply at his tone but he only smirked at her.

"So why don't you go enjoy it?" he asked. "There's plenty of time to sort all our paperwork before the week's up and it's a beautiful day."

"What about you?" Hermione asked, half-rising from her chair. If Malfoy was giving her an opportunity to escape from his presence, she wasn't about to waste it.

"I just have a couple things to do. I still have to write up those Ravenclaws."

"But you're not just going to waste the whole day in here, right?" As much as she wanted to get away, she didn't want him to be all alone on such a nice day.

He smiled sardonically at her. "No, Granger, that's what _you_ do. Go on."

She didn't waste another minute.

* * *

><p>When she exited the dark castle and entered the bright sunshine, Hermione only made it three steps in the direction of the Patil twins before she was caught up in a redheaded whirlwind.<p>

"We're not talking to them," Ginny said, nearly dislocating Hermione's shoulder she was tugging so hard.

"Why exactly not?" Hermione asked, trying to keep up. Ginny didn't answer and soon Hermione was forced to yell, "Ginny! Please!" to get her to stop.

Ginny let go and sighed, plopping down in the sun-warmed grass with a scowl firmly set on her face. Hermione joined her slowly, taking time to roll her shoulder before sitting.

"Now. What's happened?"

"Padma got a stag."

"What? You mean a stag like-"

"Like Harry's. Yes! Can you believe her? How could she do this?"

Hermione frowned, unsure of just what to say to that. "Ginny, you know it's not Padma's fault. It's not like anyone _chooses_ who-"

"But that makes it worse, doesn't it?" Ginny practically wailed, her head dropping into her hands.

Hermione was taken aback for a moment. Ginny was usually much more unflappable than this. Lots of girls had crushes on the famous Harry Potter, it had never bothered her before. Much.

"Ginny," Hermione said slowly, touching her shoulder, "what's really wrong?"

Ginny sniffed and looked up at Hermione before extending her right leg and tugging up her pants so Hermione could see the antler-like design wrapped around her ankle.

"It's fake," Ginny admitted with a watery smile. "I really got a fox." She shrugged her right shoulder and added, "On my shoulder."

"A fox," Hermione mulled, trying to remember who, if anyone, in the DA had a fox Patronus. "That's …"

"Seamus," the two girls said at the same time, Ginny rather glumly.

"But I don't _like_ him!" she said. "I mean, I like him fine. He's friendly and he's nice but -" She sighed heavily. Her head drooped and she put her hands together before her, ripping up bits of grass just so that she could have something to do. "The box says it shouldn't be taken seriously."

Hermione watched as several of Ginny's torn up bits of grass were picked up by the wind. It blew them towards the castle and she noticed a familiar blond coming out the doors. Malfoy scanned the lawn, no doubt for his fellow Slytherins, and their eyes caught. She quickly looked away.

"What did you think?" Ginny asked. "When you got a cat? I know I teased you about Crookshanks and I hope you know I didn't mean it. I was just so surprised and annoyed because everyone else was so happy and-"

"Ginny," Hermione said, cutting her off. She considered, for one brief and horrifying moment, that she might come clean about the dragon. Ginny had done the same, surely she would understand. "It doesn't mean anything," she said instead. "It's just a silly toy and there's no reason to think it knows your destiny."

"But it might know _you_," Ginny said dully.

Hermione grabbed Ginny's shoulders, forcing the younger girl to look at her. "Do you love Harry?"

"Yes," Ginny answered immediately. It wasn't a defense, only a declaration of an obvious fact.

"There you go then. Maybe this just means you want a house full of red-headed children or you want to take up hunting or fight to stop hunting or something."

Ginny smiled. "Maybe."

"And anyway," Hermione reasoned, "Padma's probably just as horrified as you are. Everyone knows she's been trying to get Ernie's attention before the end of the year and now there's no chance of that, nor is there any chance of her getting Harry."

Hermione bumped shoulders with Ginny before standing and offering an arm to help her up as well.

"Now, how about we go talk to the Patils and make nice? No reason to end the year with a fight."

Ginny nodded and allowed herself to be tugged along.

* * *

><p>The night before, the Common Room had been full of boisterous laughter and some good-natured ribbing at Colin's expense while the tattoos were doled out. Tonight was quiet and withdrawn, the most noise coming from the younger years who were all busy studying for their exams in the coming week. Despite making amends with the Patils, Ginny was sticking with the sixth years. Lavender kept biting her nails while her gaze darted around the room. Neville jumped every time someone spoke to him. They weren't even the worst.<p>

Given how her day was going, Hermione doubted she would have noticed any of this except that she'd been looking forward to some traditional end-of-year Gryffindor hijinks to get her mind off a certain Slytherin.

Everyone went to bed early and Hermione was glad when Neville finally left her alone with Harry and Ron.

"G-goodni-night," he stuttered, and stumbled on the first step up to the boys' dorms. Blushing he nodded to each of them in turn. "Harry, R-ron, He-hermione."

"What's gotten into him?" Hermione asked once they heard a door close upstairs. Neville hadn't been that clumsy in years and ever since the battle last month he'd been carrying himself with much more confidence than before.

"I don't know," Ron whined, slumping in his chair.

"Okay. What's wrong with _you_?"

"He thinks his tattoo is wrong," Harry said, pointing out to one of his chess pieces where he wanted it to go.

"Not you too," Hermione sighed. She really just wanted to wallow in the pain of having a crush on Draco Malfoy and avoid the topic of tattoos altogether, not comfort people who were unhappy with how theirs turned out when _clearly _she was the one with the worst tattoo of all.

"What do you mean 'too'?" Ron demanded immediately. He lunged across the small sitting area towards her, upending the table he and Harry had been playing chess on. Harry threw up his hands while the chess pieces yelled their displeasure.

Hermione stared down her nose at him until he backed into his seat once more. With a careful look around to make sure no one was watching, Ron lifted his shirt. On his side, just where his ribcage ended, was what could only be described as a hare.

"No," Hermione said.

"I told him," Harry said. "It doesn't mean anything. You are clearly _not_ in love with Lu-"

"Don't even say it!" Ron hissed under his breath. He dropped his shirt and smoothed it down fiercely.

"It's a toy," Harry pointed out.

"A toy that's supposed to tell you who you love. What if it's true? What if I'm destined to marry _Luna Lovegood_?" His eyes unfocused, seeing a far off future, while his face contorted into an expression of horror and extreme disgust.

"Maybe you do like her," Hermione said quietly. The two boys gawked at her but she didn't notice, too caught up in her own thoughts. "Maybe you've just never let yourself think seriously about her like that because it seemed so far fetched and unlikely."

"Okay," Ron said slowly, "we need to get her to bed."

Hermione blushed. "Sorry. It's been a long, _long_ day filled with pep talks about true love." Desperate to get away from her own awkwardness she asked, "What about you, Harry? What did you get?"

"He didn't do it," Ron said sulkily.

"But you bought one!"

Harry shrugged. "I was helping Colin out. I don't need a tattoo to tell me I'm in love with Ginny."

Hermione forced herself to smile, to be happy for her friend. At least someone was certain where their heart lay.

* * *

><p><em>reviews=love<em>


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Um, wow! Chapter one got a lot of reviews. I certainly felt loved. Thanks so much, all of you who took the time to review! And those of you who didn't but are reading this, thanks to you too. I know not everyone likes to review, I certainly don't always. It's a very intimidating thing and I don't fault any of you for choosing not to. I'm just glad you're back for more.

**Dragon Hide**

Sunday morning found Hermione much the way Saturday had. She once again stood with her back to her mirror, examining her tattoo. It was a very bird-like dragon and so was more aesthetically pleasing than one of the more traditional, purely lizard dragons would have been. She ran her fingers along the upper curve of the wings, pressing lightly. The motion was an echo of the dream she'd had last night and sent a shiver through her.

It didn't mean anything. She was a teenager under a great deal of emotional duress. She was bound to have a few naughty dreams about someone wholly inappropriate, especially since she'd spent nearly the whole day before thinking about said someone. It certainly didn't mean he was her "true love."

So she had a silly crush. It would fade! She'd had lots of silly crushes in her life and they had all disappeared. She certainly didn't still have feelings for Harry or Lockhart. She would get over Malfoy soon enough. She just had to keep in mind all the things she'd hated about him for more than six years.

She threw herself into her day with this new plan of action. In the Great Hall she reminded herself of every time Malfoy had sneered across the tables at her and her friends or made fun of them just because he knew they'd realize who he was talking about. In the corridors she reminded herself of every fight they'd ever had between classes. When she passed a window and caught sight of Hagrid's hut she reminded herself of Buckbeak, who was still a criminal thanks to Malfoy.

When she stepped into her office all those thoughts flew right out of her mind. Malfoy was already sitting at his desk, writing away. His head was bent and his usually perfect hair was a bit mussed. She liked it better that way.

No! She pinched herself through her robes. She did not like his hair better _any_ way. She hated his stupid blond hair. It was too shiny and smooth and it was not the perfect length to run her fingers through.

"Did you need something, Granger?" Malfoy asked.

Hermione jumped. She hadn't realized she'd been staring. "No, no, I- I've just got a lot on my mind."

Malfoy nodded in agreement as he went back to his task.

Hermione hurried to her seat and glanced at what he was writing. It didn't look like any of the roughly three hundred forms they needed to fill out before Saturday.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

He looked up at her for a moment before saying, "Writing a letter to the next Head Boy."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, at once proud of him for being so considerate and ashamed of herself for not being the same. "I should have thought of that! That's a brilliant idea, Malfoy!"

He smirked. "It's not what you think."

She frowned and waited for him to explain.

"You're thinking that I'm writing a lovely letter telling him all the little tricks to being Head Boy. Like that there's a disappearing alcove exactly halfway between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw dorms or that Peeves secretly loves those Muggle View Finder things-"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Figuring out they could bribe Peeves with toys had been the first thing they'd really collaborated on as Heads. It had helped set the tone for the rest of the year.

"-but really I'm writing him a letter of warning and doom with some threats that even a Hufflepuff will understand thrown in for good measure."

Hermione put on her most disapproving glare. "You should be nice to your successor. And what do you have to threaten him about anyway? It's not like you'll be here to suffer from any mistakes he makes."

Malfoy gave her a look that implied just the opposite and sealed his letter with a bit of wax and his family ring.

"Ready to get to work sorting through everything?" he asked and tucked the letter into his top drawer.

Hermione nodded.

* * *

><p>Hours later, after a house-elf disappeared with the remains of the late lunch she'd brought up for them, Malfoy said, "We're never going to finish," and Hermione was inclined to agree. Somehow, as they'd started to go through the shelves and cabinets and boxes throughout the room they'd found more paperwork than they'd ever dreamed. It had all been so nicely tucked away for so much of the year that they'd forgotten about it and now they had to sort through it so that they could file it away for future generations of Heads to ignore.<p>

"I do not remember there being this much paperwork," Hermione said, shaking her head at the stacks of papers littering the floor. Most of them were at least knee height and still growing as they found new places they'd hidden papers away.

"Neither do I," Malfoy agreed readily. He flipped through the rest of the pile in his lap then tossed it onto a nearby tower. Hermione held her breath as it swayed precariously. When it settled and both of them let out sighs of relief, they shared a friendly laugh. Hermione returned to her work, all too aware that Malfoy was walking to the nearest cupboard for another stack of papers.

"We won't be able to do our usual bet," he said suddenly.

"Hm?" she asked, confusion wrinkling her brow as she pulled herself out of an official complaint lodged by Filch against Luna because a baby thestral had followed her into the castle without her knowing.

"The game?" Malfoy asked. He hefted a pile of papers three inches thick in one arm and with the other waved the paper he was reading at her. From the design on the header, she knew it had something to do with Quidditch.

For every game this year she and Malfoy had made a bet. Typically they attempted to pass off their two least favorite duties - Harrow and Myrtle - to one another but if there were two games between full moons or Hermione was feeling particularly guilty, they chose other tasks.

"Oh, right. No, it really wouldn't make sense since there won't be any duties left."

"None we can foist off on each other, anyway," Malfoy said, falling into his chair with a thump. "Though I am glad I didn't have to console Myrtle last month when Peeves kicked her out of her own bathroom."

Hermione shuddered. She'd missed two classes trying to sort that out and then dinner because Myrtle needed a shoulder to cry on. It would've been very nice to have had Malfoy do that for her.

"We could still bet something," Hermione said. It was a silly tradition but it helped her enjoy the games more and, if she was completely honest with herself, it was one more thing to share with Malfoy before they went their separate ways. "Money?" she offered.

"No, that's boring."

Hermione turned back to her files. "I suppose when you have enough of it."

"That's not what I meant," he said snappishly. "It's just - having to do something is more of an investment in the game's outcome."

"You're Seeker, team captain, and Head Boy," Hermione pointed out.

"We have all week to think of something," he said with a careless shrug.

Silence, dull and oppressive, settled over them and Hermione said the first thing she could think of to dispel it. "What are you doing after we graduate?"

"I've got an internship with Arthur Weasley," he said as casually as if she'd asked the day's weather forecast.

"_What?_"

"Believe me, I know," Malfoy said dryly. His head was bent over his work, his hair falling messily into his eyes. His fingers moved deftly over the pile, occasionally stopping their flipping just long enough to pull something out and put it on his desk before hurrying on. "The Malfoy name's taken some hits the last few years and he offered, said he thought I could 'use the experience.' I assume he figured the 'with Muggles' part was implied."

"Or just the 'with human beings' part," Hermione muttered. Her eyes instantly widened as she realized what she'd said.

Malfoy's fingers froze and he turned his head slowly to stare at her with a mix of shock and humor. "Did you just imply that I am bad with people?" he asked.

"You really kind of are," she admitted, trying not to smile. When he scowled she added, "Our first two weeks in this office we barely said two words to each other!"

"That's different," he said, waving it off, "you aren't people."

"Oh, I'm so happy to hear your opinion of me has improved over the years."

"That's exactly what I mean," he said quickly. "We've known each other for years. It's different with you."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, ignoring the butterflies that had sprung up in her chest when he singled her out. He didn't like her, this conversation proved that. So why couldn't she stop her heart from trying to convince her brain otherwise?

She pushed away her feelings and thought about this past year. They'd actually managed to get along fairly well. They hadn't become friends but they were, she supposed, colleagues. Despite his jokes about Harrow being a werewolf, she'd actually seen them laughing together once or twice on their walks back to Hogwarts. (She had woken up early to watch for Harrow, that Malfoy was with him was irrelevant.) The man sitting across the desk from her was almost completely altered from the boy she'd once loathed.

"I think you'll do well," she said finally.

He seemed surprised and perhaps a bit flattered by her confidence. He nodded kindly. "And what about you? Where will you go? Back to the Muggle world?"

"Always," she said. "But I'd never really leave this one either. Bill Weasley helped me get a job at Gringotts."

"Gringotts? I never figured you for the type."

"They have a department that liaises with Muggle banks. I'll just be helping when Muggleborns need to change money or open dual-world accounts, but it's a start."

"Sounds perfect then."

She smiled perhaps a bit too brilliantly and tried to stop herself from thinking that if Mr. Weasley and Malfoy really got along well, maybe he'd be coming to the Burrow for dinner from time to time. It was a silly, girlish thought and she knew better than to lie to herself about possible accidental meetings.

She realized suddenly that Malfoy was still watching her and gave him a smile she hoped was only friendly. He opened his mouth to speak just as a sharp note sounded. Both of their gazes flew to the set of four lights set above the door. The yellow one was lit.

"I'll go," Hermione said.

Draco was already halfway to his feet and froze.

"Really," she said, "it's just the Hufflepuffs. How much trouble can they be getting into?"

"Enough that their prefects can't handle it," he muttered but sat back down. "Call if you need any help."

She gave him a smile that assured him she wouldn't and breezed out the door. The corridor, though no wider than the office, seemed vast in comparison. She hadn't realized how _close_ things had been getting in there. She really needed to keep perspective about Malfoy. But what was the right perspective?

This morning she'd reminded herself how horrible he'd always been and in just a few short hours of his company she'd been reminded how very _un_horrible he was now.

She nodded to a group of Ravenclaws as they passed in a stairwell and picked up her pace a bit.

Blood, she thought to herself. It always came down to blood with people like Malfoy. Oh, he'd be nice and friendly to a werewolf to pass the time or hold back on the mudblood comments so that he could get his job done more easily, but that didn't mean his attitude had changed. There was no reason to think he saw her as an equal and he would certainly never consider her in any sort of romantic capacity.

These were Hermione's last depressing thoughts before she entered the Hufflepuff common room. It took her exactly two seconds to size up the situation. Someone had smuggled in some firewhiskey and the Hufflepuffs had decided to use it to celebrate the end of the year. She counted no less than six bottles being passed around at first glance and was sure to see at least double that as she made her way through the room.

First thing was first: find the prefects.

She grabbed a bottle from a passing fifth year as she made her way deeper into the common room. He pouted at her but was quickly distracted by a pretty girl. Hermione rolled her eyes at the display and pushed further in. She found Ernie sitting glumly before the fireplace, surrounded by all the other Hufflepuff prefects. On the floor in front of them was a half-empty crate of firewhiskey.

Hermione sucked in a breath, her fists instinctively going to her hips. "_What_," she began, her voice so loud and dangerous that at least two dozen heads turned to look at her, "_do you think you're doing?_"

The prefects surrounding Ernie looked up at her with wide eyes. Ernie took a moment longer, his expression dull and lifeless.

"You are prefects! You're supposed to be stopping this- this-" she gestured around, searching for the word. She spotted the fifth year from before, now sitting in a chair across the room with a girl draped across his lap while they made out. "This debauchery!" she thundered.

"Have a heart, Hermione," Hannah said. "Ernie just found out Padma's True Love Tattoo is for _Potter_."

"Stupid Potter," Ivan, one of the sixth year prefects said, "what do all the girls see in him anyway? So he defeated You-Know-Who. Ernie actually knows how to smile and he's not about to run off and get himself killed."

"You think wallowing in your own romantic malaise is a good reason to allow _this_?" Hermione asked, waving her arm behind her and not caring that some of the firewhiskey in the bottle she still held was sloshing out.

"It's not his fault," Ivan said, standing to defend his friend. "Some of the sixth years smuggled it in and he was going to confiscate it but then one of them mentioned Padma just to mess with him. They manipulated his emotions. Bastards should've been sorted into Slytherin, if you ask me."

Hermione stepped around Ivan and sat awkwardly on the edge of the crate so she could look Ernie in the eye.

"I'm really sorry, Ernie. But don't you think you're overreacting? Maybe the tattoo is wrong." Somehow, the more Hermione said that, the less she believed it herself.

"All year I've been dragging my feet, hoping the right time to ask Padma out would present itself. And now I find out that she likes someone else, that I never stood a chance. How would you feel?"

About how she felt now, Hermione thought.

"Is this mess really making you feel better?" Hermione asked.

Ernie sat back, kneading the skin of his forehead with one hand. "Ivan? Make sure the younger years aren't drinking. Hannah? Ava? Stop that debauchery Hermione was talking about."

The three prefects rushed to do as they were told.

"And to answer your question," Ernie said, not looking up but lifting his own bottle of firewhiskey to his lips, "it really does."

Hermione watched him for a moment before moving to sit on the couch beside him and taking a drink from her own bottle.

* * *

><p>The staircase Hermione had passed the Ravenclaws on earlier was deserted by the time she began making her way back up to the office. It was also spinning a lot more.<p>

She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, using the death grip she had on the railing to pull her up. It was late to be going back to the office but she didn't think she could make it back up to Gryffindor Tower. There was an ancient couch in the office that she and Malfoy had only ever used to throw their coats and robes on. She could sleep there.

After what seemed like an eternity of climbing, Hermione reached the top. Grateful, she took the final step. Before she could head for the archway separating her from the corridor beyond, a dark figure swept through and ran right into her. She teetered on the edge of the step, images of her own broken and twisted corpse flooding her mind before two strong arms grabbed her. They wrapped firmly around her whole body, pulling her flush against a very warm chest and spinning her into the corridor and far away from the dangerous stairs.

Hermione wouldn't have thought it was possible but her savior's heart pounded even more fiercely than hers. She clutched his robes tightly, not caring that he was nearly crushing her. Her breathing had just started to settle when he pushed her away from him, holding her at arms length so that he could shake her.

The world blurred again. She wasn't quite as drunk as before thanks to the rush of adrenaline in her veins but she was still in no state to be jerked about like a rag doll.

"What the bloody hell were you doing, Granger?" Malfoy's furious voice washed over her. She focused on the white spot in the center of her vision, realizing it must be him. "You disappear down into the Hufflepuff common room for _hours_ without word! I thought those badgers had tied you up for some human sacrifice! And then when I come looking for you, you nearly fall to your death! Don't scare me like that!"

He started to let her go and she abruptly began sagging to the floor.

"Whoa!" he said. Somehow he turned them both while she fell so that he was kneeling with her half-sitting, half-laying atop him. "What _did_ they do to you down there?"

"Nothing," she said. "It was a party. I- I-"

"Got schnockered," Malfoy provided wryly.

She nodded and then nodded some more, rubbing her head against his shoulder and turning her face into his neck.

"Enough of that!" he said quickly and hoisted her into his arms.

Hurt by his quick rebuff of her drunken affections, Hermione kicked her feet petulantly. "I can walk."

"No, you really can't."

She let her head fall back, intent on making this as hard for him as possible.

"What possessed you to get drunk?"

"The Hufflepuffs were doing it," she sighed.

"Because that's a reason Hermione Granger would do anything. Try again."

She winced, wishing she was having this conversation with anyone else. "Ernie said it helped," she said, her voice small and hurt.

Malfoy's steps halted momentarily before he picked up the pace, going faster now.

"Lift up your head," he said a few seconds later, shifting his hold on her. She obliged and the world spun away from her.

When it came back he was laying her down on the couch under their one tiny window. She watched him strip off his robes and wondered if he'd take off his shirt too. She wasn't too disappointed when, instead, he folded his robes into a ball and gently lifted her head to put them under her as a pillow. His fingers laced through her hair, cradling her head gently. She knew the sensation would feature in her some of her more inappropriate dreams. Malfoy then went to the other end of the couch and lifted her feet so he could sit down beneath them before he began fussing with the ties on her sneakers.

"Helped what?" he asked, his nails picking at the tight knots.

"Hm?" she asked, the sound too high and pained.

He smiled up at her, seeing the reason for her discomfort in the permanent wince that had carved itself on her face. If only it wasn't so _bright_ in the little office.

"You said Ernie said the drinking helped. Helped what?"

She waved the question off and nearly feel off the couch.

"Maybe you should lie still," Malfoy said while she repositioned herself.

She nodded. "Padma used one of the True Love Tattoos and hers ended up being a stag."

"So?"

"That's Harry's Patronus."

Malfoy nodded in understanding. "Ernie's been after Padma all year."

Hermione half-rose, only stopping because her head wouldn't let her go any further. "You knew? I thought Padma was the one after Ernie! We could have saved them a lot of trouble!"

Malfoy chuckled at her. "And what? Be blamed when it didn't work out?"

"You don't know it wouldn't."

"Better to stay out of it altogether."

Hermione rolled her eyes and her head pounded fiercely back at her. What did she see in Malfoy again?

Her left sneaker slid easily off, followed soon by the right. Malfoy tucked the shoes under the couch and then adjusted the hems of her pants so that they no longer rode up. One of his knuckles grazed her skin. Right, that sparkly feeling. That's what she saw in Malfoy. Plus, he was being nice to her, taking care of her. Merlin, but she was pathetic.

"So that's why it helped Ernie," Malfoy said, resting his forearms over her ankles, "but what did drinking help you with?"

Hermione watched his hands. His left rested loosely inside his right and his fingers moved slowly, clenching and unclenching slightly without purpose.

"Granger?" he pressed.

"The same," she said, shifting so that she was resting deeper in the couch.

"You're in love with Padma?"

She glared. Though he wasn't looking at her, he was still smirking at her expense. "No. Someone else." She prayed he wouldn't ask the obvious question.

"I never pegged you for the kind to get hung up on a guy," he said quietly.

"Neither did I," she muttered and let her head rest against the back of the couch and her gaze unfocus. "He doesn't want me," she said quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on the white of Malfoy's crisp shirt. "He looks at me and - he doesn't see someone worth wanting."

"Granger," Malfoy began.

"Don't. Don't pity me, Malfoy, we both know it's the last thing either of us wants from the other."

"Granger," he said gently. "_Hermione_."

She looked at him, startled to hear her name on his lips.

"If there is some guy out there who is stupid enough to not like you back, then he's not worth it and no guy is worth _this_. You of all people should know better."

She blinked and hated that her vision got misty when she did. She let her head fall against the back of the couch again. Why couldn't she feel the same about Malfoy as she had about Ron? It had been hard when they broke up but at the same time she had known it would all work out okay, that they would find a way to remain friends. With Malfoy she really didn't know what okay was anymore.

"It wasn't like this before," she said. "_I_ wasn't like this. I cried last year, over Ron."

Malfoy shifted a bit at the name.

"I know you hate him," she said, thinking that was just one more reason for Malfoy to never feel the same way about her, "but he's my friend and it meant a lot to me that we could hold onto that after…. But now…" She closed her eyes tight.

* * *

><p><em>reviews=love<em>


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Despite the three editing sessions this chapter went through before I even sat down to post it, I somehow ended up making a lot of changes and additions. Since a reasonable edit to all of that would require I wait at least another two or three days to post (so it's not fresh in my mind), I figure you all will forgive me any errors.

**Dragon Hide**

When Hermione woke the sun had risen and there was a Slytherin green blanket over her. It was Monday, she remembered, closing her eyes against the glaring light. Classes were still in session though it was understood that they'd only be learning fun, goof-off sorts of things if anything at all. Still, as Head Girl she really had to set an example and attend.

With a great deal of effort and willpower, Hermione rolled to a sitting position and immediately dropped her head onto her knees.

"Well, aren't we bright eyed and bushy haired this morning?"

Hermione bit back something akin to a sob. Malfoy was the last person she wanted to see her like this, especially considering what she could remember of the night before.

Firm fingers pressed on her forehead, forcing her to look up. He was kneeling before her.

"This should make us about even," he said, holding out a steaming mug to her.

She frowned at it, watching as bubbles pooled over the edges. "What is it?"

"Hangover cure. My own recipe. Since you told me that all of Hufflepuff House would be hung over this morning I decided to whip up a massive batch and sell doses for a ridiculous sum. Yours is free," he added in a tone that suggested she should thank him.

"Madam Pomfrey would have cured them all," she said seriously.

"Yes, and docked them each House points until Hufflepuff ended the year in the negatives. This way they keep their pride and I get a few extra galleons."

Hermione tried to glare disapprovingly at him, but moving her facial muscles that way only made her head hurt more. She grabbed out for the mug and drank it down. It was the most vile thing she had ever tasted, counting Polyjuice Potion, but her headache subsided almost instantly.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she said, shoulders sagging in relief.

He seemed stunned and probably should have been. It was the first time either of them had thanked the other.

"No problem," he said quickly. He took back the mug and walked around the desks to his side. "Besides, if you're ill then I'll have to take over as the strict Head. Imagine the chaos."

"Better that Voldemort had won," Hermione said, mock-serious.

Malfoy smiled over his shoulder at her and took his seat. "A new reign of terror would sweep the land, the sun would go dark, first years would weep into their pillows."

Hermione smiled. "House-elves would flee in droves, Aragog and his children would quiver in fear, Dementors would roam the corridors."

"Oh no," Malfoy said distastefully. "Not Dementors. I have standards."

Hermione giggled.

"And what's an Aragog?"

"Remember that giant spider Harrow killed?"

"You mean slaughtered and ate? Yes."

"There's a whole family of them in the forest. Aragog is their patriarch."

"Ew."

Hermione nodded. She'd always been happy to have missed out on that particular adventure. Gingerly, she stood and surveyed the room. If anything there seemed to be more piles than when she'd left yesterday. She'd have to deal with that later though. There wasn't time to start organizing now. She turned to grab the blanket and robes Malfoy had given her.

"Leave them," he said. "You still have to get cleaned up and have some breakfast before class."

Hermione nodded, trying to look grateful instead of stricken. She didn't want him to be nice to her. Couldn't he see how hard that was for her?

Obviously not, thank Merlin.

"I'll see you in Defense then?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Malfoy nodded absently, his mind already on the paperwork before him. Hermione ignored the way his easy dismissal made her gut twist and hurried out the door.

* * *

><p>The Gryffindors, Hermione was thankful to discover, had collectively decided to ignore their tattoos. Usually Hermione would spend some time trying to uncover why exactly the joy had disappeared from the product, but she was more than happy to put them out of her mind entirely. She was actually able to pay attention in Herbology that morning as a result. They spent the class playing with the Sinquien Flower and the variety of emotions its scent could invoke. It was so enjoyable that no one remembered to be depressed about their tattoos or their afternoon class.<p>

Defense Against the Dark Arts took up Gryffindor and Slytherin's Monday afternoons. Snape had finally managed to gain the position and, despite the delight he took in lauding the Slytherins and demoralizing the Gryffindors, even Harry had to admit he was a good teacher.

He swept into the bright classroom much the same way he always had into the dank Potions room, his robes sweeping out behind him dramatically so that even this class, full of students who'd known him for seven long years, were a bit intimidated.

"As you will recall there was an extra credit class session offered several months ago," Snape began without preamble, "I was very disappointed with how few of you attended."

Ron snorted and muttered, "Shouldn't be. He scheduled it during the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game."

"Five points, Mr. Weasley," Snape said, not even breaking stride in his speech. "I had intended to extend that lesson to the rest of the class during our last session but I have been recently informed that many of you are already familiar with the Patronus Charm."

A murmur ran through the room. Some students were excited by the prospect of learning or practicing the charm, others were curious as to how Snape found out about their DA sessions. Hermione's eyes flew across the room to Malfoy. He was not part of the chatter that had bubbled up. If he felt her watching him he gave no indication. His eyes were firmly fixed on their professor.

Snape cleared his throat softly and all conversation died instantly. "Very good. Since you all seem so interested in this topic I assume you will not find any trouble adhering to today's revised lesson plan. You will be teaching one another. I am not unreasonable. I recognize that even those of you who have been attempting the charm for months or even years may not be able to produce it, so those of you who will only learn it today need not fear. I insist only on seeing proof of attempt by the time you leave class today and _no one_ may leave until I am satisfied with each of you."

There was a moment of silence while the class waited to see if Snape would add anything more.

He arched one eyebrow. "You may begin."

Hermione immediately crossed to the Slytherin side of the room, heading straight for Crabbe and Goyle's table. She figured they'd be the toughest students and knew no one else would want to teach them.

"Thank God," Pansy breathed when she approached. The girl had turned her chair around to face the boys. "I did the extra credit," she explained. "These two couldn't be bothered to get up early enough."

"It was a _Saturday_," Goyle whined.

"Yes," Pansy said sweetly, raising her hand as if to cup Goyle's cheek. "You got your precious beauty sleep." Her smile fell into a glare that rivaled the one Hermione had spent all year perfecting. "And then you had to go to bed late and wake up early every Saturday since so you could study just to scrape by!" She slapped Goyle's cheek lightly but he winced like she'd punched him.

Hermione gaped at her. She hadn't had much opportunity to see Pansy Parkinson boss around her fellow Slytherins over the years and was impressed. Pansy, noticing her approval, smirked.

"They're all yours," she said, gesturing to the two boys. Goyle flinched and Pansy giggled, patting his hand comfortingly. His scared expression softened and Hermione was forced to wonder if the oaf had a heart after all.

If Pansy had any idea of Goyle's possible crush she didn't show it once during the hour it took Hermione to teach the boys the proper hand movements and pronunciation. Though Pansy had said the boys were all Hermione's, it only took her five minutes of watching the lesson before she cut in with her own brand of education through bullying. Disturbing as Pansy's methods were, Hermione had to admit they worked well. The two of them made a sort of good cop-bad cop team.

Hermione sagged into a chair and watched as Pansy praised Goyle's spellwork. Of the two only Goyle had managed to produce a Patronus and his was little more than a faint wisp of fog falling from the end of his wand. It flared at Pansy's words and Hermione thought she saw a leg but couldn't be sure.

"She should kiss him, don't you think?" Warm breath tickled Hermione's ear. Her own caught in her throat and she willed her heart to slow down. "He could probably form a corporeal Patronus with that much happiness," Malfoy added.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him in what she hoped was a very casual way. He was leaning across the desk behind her.

"I thought you were against getting involved in other people's love lives?" she asked.

"Remember that bit, do you?" he asked cheekily.

She rolled her eyes at him and turned forward once more to hide her growing blush. She could remember far too many bits of last night.

"You told Snape," she said once she was sure she had her emotions under control once more.

"I knew what his plans were for the lesson and I didn't want you Gryffindors trying to show him up in our last class."

Hermione half-turned in her seat so she could face him comfortably. "You like him."

"He's been my favorite teacher for seven years," Malfoy said as if it were obvious. "Plus, he helped me out a lot during…" He waved his hand and Hermione nodded her understanding. For a time Voldemort had taken up residence in Malfoy's home. He would have needed all the support he could get to survive that.

"So," Hermione said, crossing her arms.

"So what, Granger?"

"I haven't seen you make an attempt."

Draco's expression fell. "I managed one during the extra credit session. Snape knows-"

"He said everyone had to," she sing-songed. He narrowed his eyes at her and she nodded towards his wand with a teasing smile. "Come on now."

Malfoy's jaw set and for a moment she thought he might really fight her on this. Then, against all odds, he closed his eyes. His expression smoothed into something almost joyful and he breathed, "_Expecto patronum._"

Something long and thin slipped from the end of Malfoy's wand. She thought at first it might be a snake but then realized it was a bit too bulky. She didn't have time to examine it any further before it jumped away, bounding up into the rafters, leaping against the walls and windows, and making more than a few students burst out in laughter as it interrupted their conversations.

"_Finite incantatem_."

The Patronus disappeared and Hermione beamed at Malfoy. It was a much more steady Patronus than most wizards could cast, even if she hadn't been able to make it out. Malfoy didn't meet her gaze and instead kept his eyes on the floor while he twirled his wand idly. Hermione realized why a second later.

The Gryffindors were laughing and even a few Slytherins sniggered. Between gasps of laughter Hermione heard Dean say, "Bouncing ferret!"

Malfoy's head lifted at this, his expression one of grudging acceptance and defiance of their ridicule.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said, laying a hand on his arm. She felt the heat of him down to her toes but put it out of her mind. She'd hurt him and this was no time to be having impure thoughts at his expense. "I didn't-"

He forced a smile. "It's no trouble, Granger. Might as well let you lot get one more joke in at my expense before we leave these hallowed halls forever." He pushed off the desk and went back to his seat at the front of the class.

"He'll be fine," Pansy said behind her and Hermione turned. "He's been moody lately, graduation jitters probably."

"So it's not just the ferret thing?" Hermione asked.

"Oh no, it's mostly the ferret thing. He's never liked his Patronus. I keep telling him: at least he can make it corporeal when he cares to but _noooooooo_. Nothing's good enough for our Draco. I swear, it's lucky he was sorted in Slytherin. Two of the other houses have towers they'd've thrown him out of in the first week and the third is - well, those Hufflepuffs are dangerous."

Hermione laughed but Pansy wasn't even smiling with her. "Malfoy said something like that before," she said, remember his comment about trussing her up as a human sacrifice. "Do you Slytherins really think the Hufflepuffs are dangerous?"

Pansy smiled slowly. "A Slytherin will kill a man for his own gain. A Gryffindor will do it to save someone. A Ravenclaw will nine times out of ten find a way around the man so their reasons don't generally matter. A Hufflepuff though? They'll kill for the bigger picture. They're good-of-the-many sort of people. They'll look at all the little people, all the players in the conflict, they'll even consider what's best for them, but in the end a Hufflepuff will do what they believe will win the game in the long run. They'll sacrifice a dozen pawns to take a king."

Pansy returned to Crabbe and Goyle, leaving Hermione to mull that over. Seven years she'd been living with Hufflepuffs and never had anyone told her what Pansy just had. It made her wonder what else she'd overlooked.

* * *

><p>Hermione spent that evening at the library and so didn't see Malfoy again until the next day. She had free period Tuesday afternoons while he was in Divination and, despite the arguments they'd gotten into all year about the legitimacy of the subject, she was glad to have the time to herself now. It gave her a chance to make up for leaving him alone with the work last night and to keep her wits about her. It also allowed her time to go over what she wanted to say to him when he did arrive.<p>

Unlike the weekend, which had been pleasantly warm, the week was sweltering. Hermione was forced to strip off her robes, leaving her in jeans and a t-shirt. More than once while she waited she found her hand moving idly towards her back to rub the surface of her tattoo. Two weeks being the absolute longest they should last, she'd hoped this one would wear off especially quick. She wasn't having much luck there though.

Malfoy breezed in at quarter past four only to freeze two steps in. She looked up at his face and shrugged hopelessly.

"I've tried a dozen cooling charms," she said, "it's not getting any better."

He nodded. It had been a problem at the start of the year too. Something about the airflow in the office kept cooling and warming charms from being of much use and they were forced to endure the hot and cold when they came.

Malfoy pulled off his outer robes and tossed them atop hers on the couch. With his back to her, she used the opportunity to surreptitiously tug the back of her shirt down. It was plenty long enough to cover the tattoo but she wasn't taking any chances.

Now that he was here Hermione wasn't quite sure she was doing the right thing. Not that reassuring him was wrong, but bringing it up and showing him that she cared enough to have done research was dangerous. She watched him sort through files, taking in the way his hair fell messily over his eyes and his cheeks reddened in the oppressive heat.

"If you have something to say to me, Granger, would you just spit it out already?"

Hermione felt herself blush. "I- I wanted to apologize for not coming to help last night."

He considered her for a moment. Apologies, like thanks, were not something that happened often in this office and usually they didn't involve the actual word "sorry."

"I'm not your keeper and we both know you'd never shirk your duties without a good reason. You're allowed to have a life outside this office."

She smiled at his estimation of her. "Actually, I was doing some research."

He laughed. "Of course you were."

Something about the way he said it made her think he really didn't believe her - or else believed her too much, she couldn't quite tell. "Yes, I was," she insisted. "Ferrets to be precise."

His hands stilled their sorting and he looked up. "Ferrets?" There was something cold and contained about his expression and she hurried on.

"Back when we all first managed our Patronuses I spent a few days looking into them, seeing why certain animals fit certain people."

"I should think the ferret is rather obvious," Malfoy said silkily, "wouldn't you?"

"Now that I've done some research, yes."

"Oh, this should be good." He leaned his chair back and crossed his legs atop the desk for balance.

Hermione's back stiffened. "Ferrets are a domesticated species though no one quite knows what species they originated from."

"So nice to be thought of as a pet," he muttered.

"They're good hunters and a bit territorial." Hermione paused for effect. "But the important thing is that they are crepuscular."

Malfoy raised one sweeping eyebrow, waiting for her explanation.

"They prefer the twilight hours and thus spend most of their time in neither light nor dark, but the hazy middle."

He smirked. "You're assuming my Patronus is due to my unclear loyalties during the war?"

"Yes." She smiled. "Well, that and your close, personal relationship with ferrets."

He chuckled and let his chair fall back to the floor. "Thank you," he said sincerely and they both got back to work.

Or at least he did. Hermione had hard time keeping her focus for more than a few minutes at a time. Draco unbuttoned his shirt after about an hour and Hermione spent ten minutes staring at the same sheet of paper before she felt it safe to look up again.

She was painfully aware of every move he made. Her mouth went dry when he stood, rolling his shoulders back. Through his shirt Hermione could see the muscles of his chest pull taught and quickly shifted her gaze somewhere less sweaty and inappropriate. Malfoy crossed to her side of the room, dodging around tall piles of paperwork as he went. She watched out of the corner of her eye while he climbed up on the arm of the couch and pulled down a box from atop a cabinet. Now that he had something else to do, he went back to work, sorting the papers in the box.

Hermione tried to do the same. He was probably the most annoying person she knew. All she wanted to do was hate him and that had worked out fine for six comfortable years. Now if he wasn't being nice to her, he was walking around looking … she would not put an adjective to that thought. If she did, she would blush crimson and with his shirt open he was sure to realize why.

"Have you talked to him yet?" Malfoy asked suddenly.

Hermione started and her pile nearly went flying. "What? Who?"

"Weasley," Malfoy said.

"What do I need to talk to Ron about?" she asked, thinking maybe it had something to do with the match Friday but why he wasn't talking to Harry she had no idea.

Malfoy's eyes crinkled in amusement. "How drunk were you the other night?"

Hermione only shook her head in confusion, which Draco seemed to read as shock and denial.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tell him. If he can't figure out you're in love with him after seven years, he's an idiot. Last thing I want is for Weasley to be happy," he muttered, going back to his piles of work.

Hermione stared down at the papers in her hands, unable to move while her mind tried to process this. This was good, wasn't it? He thought she was in love with Ron and he'd never suspect the horrible truth. Any odd behavior he saw in her now - her faraway looks, her blushes - he'd think were because she was thinking of Ron. She had to survive barely four more days and they'd leave each other at King's Cross and probably never meet again.

She threw herself into her work, ignoring the hollow feeling that settled in her stomach at the thought.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before Malfoy stood again, heading back for the cabinet on her side of the room. This time she kept her head down and even turned her chair slightly away so that she couldn't follow his every move.<p>

"Uh, Granger?" he called, his voice echoing oddly. "Could you give me a hand?" She looked up to see him resting his head on his crossed arms in the small space between the top of the cabinet and the ceiling. He looked adorable. Bastard. "I can't reach the last box."

"You're a wizard," she pointed out, miming a classic swish and flick with her hand.

"Yes," he said, somehow making it sound like she was the foolish one here, "and my wand is in my robes which, like yours, are buried underneath that pile of boxes." He gestured behind him at the pile that had somehow grown atop their discarded robes.

She stood and surveyed the boxes as well as the very cluttered floor of the room, intent on digging their wands out. "Well, we'll just have to-"

Malfoy gave an exaggerated huff and stepped down onto the seat of the couch, simultaneously reaching out and grabbing one of her arms so that he could haul her up before him.

"Calm down," he said over her protests. "I'm going to lift you up and all you have to do is reach all the way to the back there and pull that last box out, okay? You don't even have to lift it down, just get it to where I can reach it."

"Fine," Hermione said and only a moment later did some small part of her brain shriek, "What does he mean 'lift'?"

Before that thought had fully formed, Malfoy's hands were wrapped firmly around her waist. She rose into the air and had to quickly regain her mental faculties - all of which were screaming incoherently - or else she'd knock her head on the ceiling. She felt Malfoy step up onto the arm of the couch as he moved her slowly forward and she tried to focus on reaching the box instead of the feel of his hands. Her shirt had pulled up slightly on her left side and she could feel the bottom half of his hand on her skin. The contrast between skin on skin and skin through fabric was worse than one or the other would have been.

It was rather lucky that she was so conflicted about him at the moment, otherwise she'd have been flailing about and probably ended up kicking him between the legs. She was too horrified to move though and remained stiff as a board. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears. Her breathing was shallow, anything at all deep pulled the skin of her waist and brought the gentle, firm hold he had on her back into sharp focus.

She grabbed the box and tugged it to her, then waited, figuring Malfoy had seen or at least heard.

He didn't move.

She swallowed, focused on keeping her voice level and above all _normal_ and said, "Got it!" It came out too bright but at least it didn't quake.

He still didn't move.

"Uh, Malfoy?" she asked. She used her arms to support herself on the cabinet so she could twist a bit to try to see him.

One of his thumbs dropped past the hem of her shirt. "What's this?" he asked, his voice thick.

A shiver ran through her as his finger brushed what she knew was the edge of the tattoo. Now she did kick, coupling the motion with more weight on her arms so that she could straighten and hide the offending mark from sight. The top of her head scraped painfully along the ceiling and Malfoy stepped back down, dropping her to the ground before she could hurt herself or him. She stumbled but didn't pause for a minute. She tugged down her shirt as far as it would go and began pulling boxes off the pile on the couch, stacking them beside Malfoy's feet.

"Granger," he said.

She ignored him, not wanting to analyze what his tone could mean or see the expression on his face. If she were lucky he'd have seen nothing damning. If she were not …

He slammed his hand down atop the second to last box when she put it up. "Granger!"

Not to be deterred, Hermione grabbed her robe and tugged it from beneath the final box so hard she heard a rip. She didn't care. She raced to the door, stopping only for a moment once there to observe the mess they now only had two days to clean up.

"I- I'll- later," was all she could think to say before fleeing into the hall.

* * *

><p><em>reviews=love<em>


	4. Chapter 4

AN: This is the final chapter. It was always headed for this ending so I hope you all like it. Thanks so much for all the support for this fic. I've honestly been stunned by how much attention it's received.

**Dragon Hide**

Hermione had never been so mortified. Not only had Malfoy maybe, probably seen the tattoo that meant she maybe, probably had feelings for him, but she'd _run_. What kind of Gryffindor ran from anything?

She spent the rest of the day in her room, ignoring her friends when they knocked and stroking Crookshanks' belly. Late that night she snuck out and returned to her office, intent on doing the rest of the clean up all on her own. It would be easier with Malfoy's help of course, but after that afternoon she didn't want to see him unless she absolutely had to.

She flicked on the light and froze in her tracks. Not a single pile of papers could be seen anywhere. She stepped slowly around the desk as if worried the stacks were still there, only rendered invisible somehow. At the wall of filing cabinets she walked all the way to the end, bending down a bit to see that 1998 was now the final date listed.

Malfoy had finished everything.

Hermione slumped in her desk chair, not quite knowing or caring how she'd gotten to it. Dimly she thought he really would do well working for Mr. Weasley if he was industrious enough to get all this done on his own in so short a time. He'd even, she realized with a mirthless chuckle that never made it quite past a smile, had to forge her signature. When had Slytherin sneakiness become endearing?

She stared at the surface of the desk. He just kept confusing her and doing nice things. She needed something to remind her that he was a terrible, horrible prat. Her gaze moved slowly to his desk and she suddenly remembered the letter. She couldn't help her grin. His letter to the next Head Boy! He'd said himself it was threatening and it would probably be just the insight she needed into Malfoy's head to get him out of hers.

She raced around the desks and pulled the top drawer open. The letter was still on top and she snatched it quickly while settling into Malfoy's seat. The seal had a magical element to it but she was certain she could mimic it easily. If he discovered her invasion of his privacy she'd just remind him that he'd forged her signature and call them even.

A simple spell opened the letter without breaking the physical seal and she settled in to read.

_Dear Head Boy of 1998-1999,_

_As you can imagine this letter has been left for you by your predecessor. I am not going to coddle you and tell you how to do your job. If you can't handle it, you should never have been appointed. _

_This letter is only to remind you of the trust which has been invested in you. I'm not talking about the trust of the student body or the professors, you've heard enough of that rot tonight, but about the trust of one student in particular. _

_No doubt your head of house has by now informed you of a certain student's condition and the role you will play in managing it. Know that if, in the coming year, harm befalls this student or the truth behind his frequent absences if brought to light I will hold you personally responsible and make it my mission in life to repay you for such a breach of conduct. My name alone should be more than enough evidence of my ability to do just that._

_Good luck in your final year,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Hermione stared at the letter. He was protecting Harrow. After all she'd done to convince herself that he was self-serving, that his good behavior was only for his own benefit, he went out of his way to protect little Timothy Harrow.

* * *

><p>Hermione avoided Malfoy like the plague. If they had class together she sat as far from him as possible. She spent her free time outside, surrounded by her fellow Gryffindors, or in the common room. In the Great Hall she sat with her back to Slytherin's side of the room and pretended she couldn't feel him watching her.<p>

There was nothing to be said that wouldn't be awkward and uncomfortable and confirm what she already knew. He didn't have feelings for her, not like she had for him at any rate. She just wasn't about to subject herself to that kind of embarrassment when she didn't have to. Except …

Tomorrow was the match and the day after they'd part company, perhaps forever. There was one thing they could still share, silly as it was, and she planned on making the most of it.

"Malfoy!" Hermione called and instantly winced at the sound of her own voice echoing in the entrance hall.

She waited while he said some parting words to Zabini and crossed the hall to join her.

"Found your Gryffindor bravery, did you?" he asked, smiling cheekily.

She held up a hand and glanced around. Breakfast was nearly over and most students were well on their way to class but she still wasn't chancing being overheard. She waved him to the side of the hall where a pillar would muffle their conversation and hide them from view.

"A full year of being Heads and now you decide to be ashamed of me?"

"Shut up," she snapped. "This isn't funny. And no, we are not talking about it. I'm just here about the bet."

He crossed his arms over his chest and she assumed that was all the response she would get.

"Last time I was in the office you still hadn't cleaned out your personal effects."

"So? There's still another day and then all the time after the match."

"If we lose I'll clean it. I'll box up everything, nice and neat. Neater than you'd do."

He considered this for a moment. "And if, by some miracle, Gryffindor wins?"

She lifted her chin, tapping into some of that Gryffindor courage he'd mentioned. "I want a kiss."

Malfoy's eyes widened.

Hermione held out her hand to shake on it before he could find his voice to comment. "Deal?"

He nodded slowly. "Deal."

* * *

><p>It was the worst bet Hermione had ever made. She spent the first three hours of Friday's game on pins and needles. She didn't know how to feel whether Ron missed the Quaffle or Dean made a goal.<p>

Luna clutched her hand tightly while Crabbe shot a Bludger at Harry. Harry rolled quickly out of the way and then zoomed off across the pitch. The crowd gasped, only to relax a moment later when it was clear Harry was just trying to get away from the Slytherin Beaters and hadn't seen the Snitch at all.

Hermione let her gaze drift up to where Malfoy was hovering in lazy circles over the field, watching for the Snitch. Harry joined him and Hermione almost thought she saw them laugh about something together before they went their separate ways.

"You're really into the match," Luna said. "That's not like you."

"Oh," Hermione said, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "I- I just -" She was saved answering when Gryffindor scored, bringing them even with Slytherin once more at 70 points.

She should say she really wanted Gryffindor to win one last game but she didn't know if that was true. She'd thought before that one kiss would be better than nothing at all or, if she was very, very lucky, that it would be dull and awkward and do absolutely nothing for her. But what if it was good? What if it only made her want him more? That would be worse than no kiss at all.

She didn't allow herself to think that maybe he might enjoy the kiss. That was a fantasy in which she could not allow herself to indulge.

Hermione tried to put thoughts of Malfoy out of her mind as she watched the game. He helped by staying high above the main action and she could almost pretend this was a normal match, just like any other. When it became too hard to ignore her butterflies she let her gaze drift towards the teachers' box. Fred and George had come to visit and were celebrating every goal with a small fireworks display.

"Look!" Luna cried.

Hermione looked up to see Malfoy and Harry in steep dives. They each headed for the Hufflepuff stands where Hermione saw a flash of gold hovering. She lost sight of it a moment later and the boys veered to the left, nearly touching as they neared their target. The Snitch seemed to be circling the field. Students leapt to their feet, yelling encouragements as the Seekers soared over them, arms outstretched. Just before they reached the Gryffindor section both boys spun out in different directions.

Malfoy regained control in front of the Gryffindor stands and met Hermione's gaze before opening his fist just far enough that the two golden wings could unfurl. Slytherin had won.

* * *

><p>It was just as well, Hermione thought as she trudged back towards Gryffindor Tower with the depressed mob. The look Malfoy had given her when he revealed the Snitch made it perfectly clear that he'd won not just for House pride but so he wouldn't have to give her her prize.<p>

"Ginny," Hermione said, catching her friend's arm and stopping on the stairs.

Disgruntled third and fourth years muttered under their breath at having to go around but no one was about to speak out against the Head Girl or an unhappy Beater still in full gear.

"I know we should all stick together and cheer each other up right now but-"

"Please go do whatever secret thing you have to," Ginny said. "With any luck it'll turn into one last adventure and save us all."

Hermione laughed. "I doubt it. I just have to pay up to Malfoy."

Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What'd you bet?"

"I have to clean his half of the office. With how messy he is it'll probably take all night."

"Do you want any help?" Ginny asked, looking almost hopeful.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I can manage." She ignored Ginny's forlorn expression and the guilty feeling in her gut and turned to go. Much as she'd like to help her friend escape the pity party that was sure to be the Gryffindor common room, she really just wanted to be alone for a little while.

She didn't waste any time getting to the office. She needed to focus on this or she'd end up staying up half the night mooning over every little thing Malfoy had ever so much as touched while feeling sorry for herself and that wasn't an option. This was no different than when she helped Harry or Ron organize their things. She would be in and out in no time at all and then she could go back to the common room. By then Fred and George should have suitably lifted everyone's spirits. It would be a real end of year party and Hermione would be able to forget her troubles.

Hopes of an emotional respite ahead of her, Hermione nearly ran into the office.

Malfoy was sitting in his chair.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she couldn't seem to remember how to move. She faintly heard the door swing shut behind her.

Malfoy stood slowly. He was still in his Quidditch gear though he'd begun removing the pads and had tossed them on the desktop. His hair was windswept and he was filthy from sweat but he still somehow managed to look regal.

"I'm just here to pay up," she said quickly, looking away from him.

"Good," he said.

Hermione blinked, trying not to let his succinct dismissal cut her.

He crossed the room in two quick strides. "I've decided to change the terms of the bet. I doubt you'll mind."

Her eyes flashed up at him. "You can't change a bet after you've won, Malfoy!" She may be pathetically in love with him but she wasn't about to let him get away with being a prat.

He smirked down at her. "You wanted to kiss me yesterday."

Her eyes widened and she felt her cheeks flaring crimson. So that was it. She looked away again, down at the floor by his chair. She was not about to let him pity her or give him something to lord over her. A deal was a deal and that was final.

"That is neither here nor there. The bet was that if Slytherin won, I cleaned your half of the office and you've won so-"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him jerk up the long sleeve of his jersey before thrusting his arm into her field of vision. Wrapped around his wrist was a twisting tattoo of an otter.

Hermione gasped and looked up at him questioningly.

He shrugged. "Thought I'd try them out since all you Gryffindors were. Imagine my surprise," he chuckled and lifted her chin to kiss her.

It was as good as she'd feared and she was soon swept up in the moment, not caring about tattoos or what tomorrow might bring. Suddenly he was gone, stepping away from her so fast that she almost fell. The door opened behind her and she heard Goyle's voice.

"There you are, Draco! Pansy says we can't have a party until the guest of honor arrives and she's holding the Butterbeer hostage."

Hermione was grateful she still had her back to the door. She doubted even Gregory Goyle could overlook the cause for her blush.

"I'm a bit busy, Greg," Malfoy said firmly. "Tell Pansy to quit-"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said. "We're just about done here. You go on, Malfoy. Have fun."

He studied her, something akin to rage in his eyes. She couldn't blame him. They were in the middle of something important and now she was telling him it could wait.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his usually smooth voice stilted. "I'd hate to leave you alone with all of this."

She shook her head. "I'd rather be. It's a lot to get a handle on."

His expression softened and she saw something self-deprecating flash in his eyes. "You'll update me at the feast?" he asked. He pulled his sleeve back down carefully and she watched one knuckle caress the otter's back before the tattoo disappeared entirely from view.

"Yes," she managed to say. He smirked at the effect he had on her and stepped around her.

"See you then," he whispered in her ear and he was gone.

* * *

><p>Hermione left the office soon after, deciding to clear her head by wandering the halls. They were far from empty. The Slytherins were all down in the dungeons celebrating and most of the Gryffindors seemed to be hiding their heads in shame but the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were out enjoying their final day at Hogwarts before the summer holidays.<p>

Hermione couldn't believe it. All that time she'd spent wallowing like a lovestruck idiot and it turned out Malfoy liked her. She almost skipped. Some small corner of her brain reminded her of every time she'd tried to say that the tattoos weren't necessarily accurate and she very politely told that corner to _shut up!_ He wouldn't have kissed her like that if he didn't like her at least a little.

Unless … This _was_ Malfoy. He wasn't necessarily above pranking her. No! No. He'd been at least decent to her all year and even if it was all an act to lull her into complacency there was no way he could have known he'd be presented with this kind of an opportunity. Plus, more shocking than anything, she just didn't believe him capable anymore. He'd written a letter to protect Harrow, for Merlin's sake!

So that was that. She liked him. He liked her. Nothing could be more simple or complex and she was free to enjoy the happy butterflies in her stomach until the feast.

Or she would have been had her feet not taken her towards Ravenclaw Tower. Halfway there she found Padma and Parvati sitting on the stairs.

"What's happened?" she asked, seeing Padma's stricken expression. There were tears in her eyes that she was refusing to let fall.

"I hate him. I do!"

Hermione lifted an eyebrow and looked to Parvati. "Ernie?" she mouthed.

Parvati nodded sadly and Hermione joined them, rubbing Padma's back comfortingly.

"He told me he hoped it would work out!" Padma nearly yelled. "With _Harry! _I don't even _like _Harry! But all Ernie will say is how he thinks we'd be great together and Harry couldn't do any better! I could have hexed him!"

"Want us to?" Parvati asked.

Hermione sent her a sharp look but mentally she was already planning on running down to the Hufflepuff dorms and giving Ernie a tongue-lashing.

"Oi!"

"What's this then?"

The three girls looked up the stairs to see Fred and George descending.

"What are Hogwarts three loveliest ladies doing moping around in this dark, dank stairwell?" George asked. Hermione noticed what looked suspiciously like the Marauder's Map sticking out of his pocket.

"Nothing," Padma said, schooling her features into mild indifference.

"Good," Fred said, hauling Padma to her feet while George did the same to Hermione and Parvati. "Then you're free to come with us. We just came from Gryffindor Tower. It is _dead_ up there."

"And we know just how to liven things up," George said.

The girls exchanged looks. When the twins were this excited about something there was a very thin line between lively and deadly.

* * *

><p>"Come on, Harry," George said, pushing him onto one of the desks. Fred and George had gathered up all of the seventh year Gryffindors along with their sister and dragged them into an empty classroom. "This is just the thing to cheer you up."<p>

"I don't need cheering up!" Harry insisted. "It was a good game! Malfoy won fair and square."

There were a few scoffs around the room. Malfoy and fair play weren't often found in close proximity.

Ginny put her hand on Harry's shoulder and he sagged into his seat. The twins stepped to the front of the room with identical smiles on their faces.

"You are probably all wondering why we asked you specifically to come," Fred said.

"You mean why you dragged us here?" Ron snapped. His brothers glared at him but quickly resumed smiling.

"How did you all like our True Love Tattoos?" George asked innocently.

There was a great deal of muttering and none of the excitement Hermione remembered from just a few days ago.

"Good," Fred said cheerily. "That's exactly what we thought."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, rising slowly from her seat.

The twins actually seemed to balk a bit at her tone. Harry and Ron dragged her back down.

"The tattoos don't work _at all_," Fred said happily.

"Define 'at all,'" Hermione nearly croaked into the silence that followed Fred's admission.

"They don't work," George said. "Each needle holds a magical image of an animal that we put there. What you get is just random."

"Well, usually random," Fred pointed out and George shrugged his agreement. "We chose the animals in the needles you got just for all of you."

"We knew all your Patronuses from back in the DA."

"And we knew it'd be the perfect way to mess with you lot."

Ginny was the first to react. She leapt from her seat and charged at her brothers, beating them fiercely.

"Hey! Hey! It says right on the box!" George yelled, holding up his arms to defend himself.

"We make no claims as to the accuracy of True Love Tattoos!" Fred yelled.

Ginny finally stopped. "You two are _evil_. You should have been _Slytherins_!"

"Come on, Gin, it's not so bad," Harry said. "You got a stag."

Ginny paled and her brothers let out soft oo's. She slapped at them but they dodged away.

"Actually," she admitted slowly, "I got a fox."

Harry's eyes widened and Seamus stepped behind Dean just to be safe. Then Harry burst out laughing.

"N-no offense, Seamus," he gasped out between guffaws, "but- _Seamus!_"

Seamus seemed torn for a moment then shrugged it off. "At least he's not challenging me to a duel."

That broke the ice for everyone else and they began exchanging stories of their own tattoo troubles. Neville, having gotten an otter, was so happy he wasn't secretly in love with Hermione that he kissed her on the cheek before going red as a beet. Lavender was just glad to find the swan on her ankle was not a sign she was meant to end up with Cho Chang. Hermione thought Ron looked a bit disappointed but if he was, he was also too smart to let his brothers see and quickly covered it up.

Hermione tried to smile with Padma but just couldn't hold it for long. Barely an hour before she'd told herself that the veracity of the tattoos didn't matter but now she wasn't so sure. Malfoy wouldn't even have looked at her twice if he hadn't gotten that stupid otter.

"Why were there _two_ otters?" Hermione muttered.

"Funny you should ask," Fred said, popping up over her shoulder and making her jump.

"Because we had a similar question for you," George said from her other side.

They maneuvered her far enough away from the others that they wouldn't be overheard but not so far as to attract attention.

"There was no cat," Fred said. It was an accusation.

"None at all," George said.

"Good idea though."

"Make someone think they were in love with McGonagall."

"We should've thought of it."

George nodded in agreement.

"But still."

"No cat."

Hermione folded her arms and stared them down.

"Fine," George said. "There was only one otter. The second one-"

"We'd like to know who got that, by the way."

George nodded. "Definitely. But the second needle was probably exposed to a magical projection of an otter."

"Such as your Patronus," Fred said knowingly.

Hermione felt her stomach drop out. Her Patronus had touched each of the boxes Malfoy confiscated from the Ravenclaws, including the one he'd probably used.

"Oh no," she breathed.

The twins exchanged a worried look.

"Come on, it can't be that bad," Fred said, resting a hand on her shoulder.

George grinned. "No worse than the tattoo you got, I'd wager."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked warily.

"Well, we thought it'd be great fun to really mess with you all."

"And what better way to do that than to make one of you think that they were in love with none other than Draco Malfoy?"

"The dragon," Hermione breathed.

The twins' grins grew so wide Hermione thought they'd pull identical muscles. They began hopping up and down in excitement.

"Oh, Merlin, Hermione! That is just too good!"

"How did you stand it?"

"How did she not figure it out?"

"We were sure if anyone with half a brain got the dragon they'd figure the tattoos were fake right away."

"You must have been traumatized. The only way you wouldn't have realized is if-" Fred cut off, his face paling. George's did the same and they both turned to look at her.

Hermione shook her finger at both of them. "Not. One. Word."

They nodded slowly.

"No one ever hears about this. And I mean _ever_. Even if I am long dead and the two of you are on your matching deathbeds and you want to get one last really funny story in before you go, this will not be it. Got it? Because I will torture you both from beyond the grave if I have to. You know I'd manage it."

They nodded again.

"Good. Now go have fun at someone else's expense."

They scurried off, leaving Hermione with her whirling thoughts.

She would have to tell him, that much was obvious. He could do whatever he wanted with the information after that. If he said it didn't matter, she'd be ecstatic. If he decided he'd never really liked her at all, well, she'd deal with that when and if it came.

She snatched the Marauder's Map out of George's pocket without so much as a "by your leave" and left for the next empty classroom over, not wanting to explain to her friends just what she was up to.

Hermione scoured the dungeons twice before deciding he really wasn't there and searching the rest of the school. She finally found him in their office and rushed up there, not allowing herself to pause and wonder what he was doing there instead of the party down in Slytherin.

She burst into the room with much more force than she would have liked and he turned to grin at her. He was packing his things.

"Done thinking already? Good."

She shook her head as he advanced on her and held up a hand to ward him off. "I have to tell you something."

He frowned and leant against the edge of his desk with arms and legs crossed. "This sounds serious," he said curiously.

She bit her lip and nodded. "It is. I swear I didn't find out until just now or I never would have let any of this happen."

"Any of what happen?"

She searched for the best way to explain. "You were right."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Those are the last three words I ever expected to hear from you."

She was too distraught to scowl at him. "About the tattoos," she explained, wringing her hands. "When you said they sounded dodgy, that there was no way to prove they were accurate. They're not. Not even a little. The twins just told us. Yours was only an otter because it had been exposed to my Patronus."

His expression had slowly closed off while she spoke and his words were cold. "And the dragon?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her middle as if he could see right through her.

"They knew all our Patronuses and made sure to send one of each to Colin. The dragon they added because-" she gestured vaguely at him- "because it's you," she said quietly.

"Of course." He was dignified and she could feel him pulling away from her. She couldn't stand the idea that she was losing all of him because of this.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I know we haven't always gotten along but this year has meant a lot to me. I'd hate to think this mess meant we could no longer be-"

"Friends?" he asked, his smile cruel. "We have never been friends, Granger."

She nodded. "I understand." She turned to go but paused with the door half open. "Since you're going to be working for Mr. Weasley, can we at least agree that if we ever meet again we'll be civil?" She was thinking of random meetings at Weasley Sunday dinners. Before, when it had been something to dream of, it had seemed impossible. Now it seemed sure to happen and she didn't want all of this to make the Weasleys uncomfortable.

He didn't answer. His eyes were firmly fixed on the ground. His hands were white-knuckled, gripping the edge of the desk. She took in the way his hair fell, the stormy color of his eyes, and firm set of his jaw. This wouldn't be the last time she saw him but it might be the last time she had a chance to memorize him.

Feeling she'd stared long enough and that he'd probably bark at her if she stayed much longer, she stepped into the hall.

"Granger!" Malfoy called.

She turned and he was standing in the doorway, wand in hand. She certainly didn't deserve a hexing for what she'd done and reached for her own.

"This has been a banner day," he said. "You admitted that I was right. Well now let me tell you something even more stunning. _You were wrong_."

She'd thought that much was obvious and opened her mouth to say so.

He spoke over her. "You allowed the opinions of others to form your own and because of that you are making a complete fool of yourself now."

She looked away. "I made a mistake, Malfoy, and I'm sorry for that. But you believed the stupid things too! So don't you start acting all high and mighty!"

"I'm not talking about the tattoos," he said and lifted his wand. "Expecto patronum."

White light fell from Malfoy's wand, coalescing into a ball on the floor. It slowly unwound itself and stared up at her. It was clearer than during class, the face and limbs more defined.

"I spent weeks," he said, stepping around it to reach her, "after that extra credit session trying to figure out just why _this_ was my Patronus."

She kept her eyes on the glowing creature. It had begun spinning lazy circles in the air behind Malfoy. She swallowed, trying to remember everything she'd learned while researching the animals. "They're clever and industrious and-"

"Please stop talking like a textbook, Granger. We both know exactly why. You said it yourself the other day. Apparently my picture of happiness - is your happiness."

She turned to look up at him and he kissed her. When she brought her arms up around his neck light flared through her closed eyelids and she felt the faint brush of the ethereal otter swooping joyfully around them.

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